Fragmented
by Bludge
Summary: Everyone has their breaking point; but when Catherine reaches hers, she wakes up the next morning to find she's not alone......... Complete Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far :o) R
1. The Shard Glass

Disclaimer: Don't own (simple as that!)  
  
A/N: Hey. This is another story which isn't connected to 'Rocks In The Road' (which I will be updating soon). Just a little one piecer, I decided to post up to celebrate the end of the school year! (Yay! A whole summer holiday of freedom) So I finally have more time on my hands to work on my fics. Your feedback is much appreciated, cos it helps me to work out what I need to work at. Well R&R and ENJOY!!! - Bex :o)  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
The ice-cold water splashes against your skin and you look up into the mirror, staring at the face you don't remember, yet recognise all at the same time, which gazes hauntingly back. The face is weary and worn - aged beyond the years of its wearer. It belongs to you.  
  
The only source of light in the small bathroom are the fragmented beams of dawn, which have crept through the partially-opened blinds. Fragmented like your life. You're sick of the lies that you tell your daughter whilst they tear you up inside. Sick of the fact that the husband you hated will never have justice for his death. Sick of feeling like a lost little child crying out to be found, but who's desperate pleas fall only on deaf ears. Sick of being alone. Maybe that's what has brought you here.  
  
Your head aches, causing the whole world to spin. You grab hold of the sink to steady yourself. When the motion stops, you do up the last few buttons on your shirt and then turn to face the open door. Turn to look into the bedroom adjacent to the room in which you stand, to look at the unmade bed and the man who still rests in it.  
  
You run a tired hand through your hair. How did this happen? How did you come to be here?  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
~*~ Two Nights Ago - 11:30pm ~*~  
  
Unlike the majority of the people in Las Vegas who used the night for sleep, Catherine Willows was living her nightmare. She stared numbly down at the long golden hair that fell chaotically across the floor, the sapphire eyes that were wide with shock and pain, and the small body of the child that lay scrawled lifelessly in an unnatural twist at the bottom of the stairs. All Cath could think of was her little girl: this could have been her.  
  
At the top of the stairs - past the blood splatter that stained the cream walls and carpet - was the mother's body. Her face was mottled with angry dark busies that continued down the rest of her figure. Once blond hair was streaked with crimson blood and her cloudy eyes remained open, glazed in a vacant gaze. She had been beaten to death; her daughter had died from a broken neck caused by the fall down the stairs, and the husband had come home to find them.  
  
It was never meant to be this way.  
  
Cath felt a hand tenderly touch her shoulder and she turned her head to be met by two concerned blue eyes. "You alright?"  
  
She gave Grissom a curt nod and turned back to look at the corpse. The young girl's resemblance to Lindsey caused a stab of pain to her heart.  
  
"Maybe you shouldn't handle this case." Grissom suggested gently as if he knew exactly what was going through her mind.  
  
Her eyes snapped back to face him with an irritated expression.  
  
"I'm fine Grissom," She insisted firmly. "I can handle this case. I want this case."  
  
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He knew how stubborn she was. Truth being, she would continue to work on the case whether she had his blessing or not. And this was what bothered him: the fact that she was determined to face the things he wanted to protect her from.  
  
"Where's the husband now?" She asked, ignoring his obvious disapproval of her persistence.  
  
"Mr Beckett is on his way to the station with Brass so we can get a statement." Grissom told her.  
  
"Poor guy," Cath muttered, "Imagine coming home to this."  
  
"Are you positive you can handle this?" Grissom questioned again. She glared at him, but before she could snap angrily at him, he placed his hands steadily on her shoulders. "I'm only asking as a friend Cath. I know cases involving kids upset you and I don't want you to be."  
  
She smiled softly at him, touched by his concern. "I'll be fine Gris." She pulled back and slipped on her latex gloves. "Come on. Let's catch the asshole who did this."  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
You stand in the doorway watching the shattered light dance on his peaceful face. He looks so boyish and carefree when he sleeps - a far cry from the man you know.  
  
You think about the concern in his voice and eyes that night. Concern and something else you didn't recognise at the time, but now you do: pity. Pity like he showed you last night. Pity is what made him open that door. Pity is what made him let you in. Only pity.  
  
How did this happen? How did you come to be here?  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Catherine grimly inspected the pictures of the crime scene again. The pain and fear in both of the victims' eyes haunted her. Reminded her. Doctor Robbins concluded from the autopsy that the girl was the first to die, then the mother. Maybe the girl had been knocked down the stair after rushing to help her mother. Maybe her mother had been rushing to help her. But that's all they had: maybe this and maybe that, nothing solid. Nothing to bring justice. She sighed heavily and ran a tired hand through her hair. Why hadn't they caught the guy yet?  
  
"You alright?" She turned to face the owner of the voice, this time to be met with brown eyes. They had just as much concern as the blue ones, but Warrick's always looked at her differently from Grissom's - it was hard to explain.  
  
She forced a nod. "I will be as soon as we catch the guy who did this."  
  
Warrick stared over her shoulder at the pictures and shared her bleak _expression. "We will Cath." Then he gently squeezed her arm. "If you want to talk or if you need me, you know where I am," he told her.  
  
Cath managed a weak smile and nodded in response. Satisfied, he left. This was always the difference between him and Grissom; the way Warrick was able to understand and express human emotions.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
You rethink that thought. Is it true? Maybe Grissom doesn't reveal his emotions because he feels he has to be the strong one. But when it counts, when it really matters, he puts away the blank mask and shows just how much he cares.  
  
He's usually right, too, and you hate that. You know he was definitely right when he told you to wait for him before returning to the crime scene. But did you listen? Now look what's happened.  
  
How did this happen? How did you come to be here?  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Catherine eased the Tahoe into the driveway and shut off the ignition. She sat in the front seat, perfectly still, just staring at the house in front of her. It looked different now in the light of day, and yet completely the same as the night before. The same sinister atmosphere surrounds it like a warning to the horrors trapped inside. She unfastened the seat belt and slid out the vehicle. After taking a deep breath, she braced herself to go back inside.  
  
Soft light fluttered in through gaps in the curtains, making the hall glow eerily. There had to be clue, something to lead her to the killer, and Cath was convinced that it was here. All she had to do was find it.  
  
Something guided her up the stairs - past the reminders of the events belonging to the previous night - and to the door at the end of the landing.  
  
She gently pushed the door open and stared at the lilac walls. The bed was neatly made, as if waiting to be slept in. Soft toys and other tiny treasures were organised in different places around the room. Cath couldn't help but think of her daughter's room, still graced with life, unlike this one.  
  
Without thinking, she sat down on the bed. The action caused the bed to move and knock something from its hiding place under the pillow. Curiously, Cath looked down on the floor and found a plain blue note book lying there. She picked it up and carefully opened it.  
  
The first thing she noticed was the words 'PRIVET' written in large letters on the top page. She ignored this word and continued on to the next page. It hadn't taken Catherine long to realise that this was the deceased girl's diary; pages filled with her inner most thoughts and feelings.  
  
Something in the sea of writing caught her attention: 'I hate him. He thinks I don't know why mum's face is always covered in bruises, why she always sobs herself to sleep, why I hear constant screams from down the corridor when ever he comes home drunk. How wrong he is."  
  
Catherine reread the words, then repeated the actions. She felt nausea begin to rise from the bottom of her stomach as she anxiously read on to find more entries like this. Then she froze.  
  
There was an entry, the last one, with yesterday's date at the top. Her mind screamed at her to stop, but she needed to know. No matter what the truth may do; she had to know it.  
  
"We're leaving. He had a bad day and as usual he's taken it out on mum, and then went out drinking. But she's had enough. I've just finished packing my bag and any moment now I'm gonna hear her call me to leave here for good. I'm so happy that it's hard to explain. Goodbye dad. Thanks for nothing and I hope you rot in hell. Oh Christ! The front door just slammed. He can't be back, not now."  
  
Her final words. Words that placed all the pieces together. Cath's head spun as she imagined that girl running out of her room towards her mother's cries, then being hit and falling backwards down the stairs as she tried to help her. Falling into darkness.  
  
Catherine's head snapped up at the sound of the door opening. She expected to see Grissom; instead she was greeted by two cold eyes. Cold eyes that belong to Mr Beckett. Her blood turned to ice and she quickly tried to hide the diary. But it was too late; he'd already seen it.  
  
His cold eyes darkened dangerously in anger as he advanced towards her. She clutched to book desperately and backed away into the corner. No escape now. That was when the first blow came. It snapped her neck to one side, bringing her to her knees. She shakily touched her stinging left cheek and stared up at him with fearful wide eyes. The same eyes as his wife and child. The same eyes as his previous victims.  
  
And as she looked panicked up at him, she saw someone else. She saw Eddie. She saw memories of nights so many years ago being played out in front of her. Catherine could feel the immense fear and helplessness as she huddled in the corner waiting for the next blow. Wondering how many more she could take before it killed her. Thinking about how death maybe was her only way out.  
  
But the next blow never came. Instead the door slammed opened and someone shoved him against the wall. "Freeze," Brass' voice roared, as he pointed his gun square with Mr Beckett head as Grissom held him against the wall. The rage in his eyes disappeared as he glanced down at the figure curled in a small ball in the corner.  
  
Catherine wasn't aware of what was going on. Everything else had faded out as she remained paralysed to the spot. Just waiting, like she always used to, for the next blow. Followed by the next. After what seemed like a lifetime, she realised that someone was calling her name.  
  
"Catherine?"  
  
She looked cautiously up to be greeted by Grissom worried gaze.  
  
"It's OK now," He reassured her. "Are you OK?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Are you OK? What kind of a question was that? You think it was quite obvious that you were not OK, but when you gave him that feebly nod, he dropped it. He let you leave in that state. Leave alone. And of course you did what came naturally.  
  
How did this happen? How did you come to be here?  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Catherine stumbled more then walked along the path. Inside the bar she had just sat numbly by herself, as she tried to drown out the flashbacks with vodka. God, she loved that stuff. Of course she didn't have to be alone if she didn't want to be; many of the men there approached her after a few moments of working up the courage or deciding what dodgy chat up line to use this time. But she knew that their company would solve nothing, not the torture nor the loneliness. So she declined their offers; at the beginning of the binge with a polite 'I'm not in the mood for company right now', then, after quite a few more rounds, with 'Fuck off'.  
  
And now she meandered uncertainly down the familiar route, leading her to the place she always went when she was like this. To her sanctuary.  
  
She battled the doorbell for a couple of moments, the resulted to banging loudly on the door. The door opened after an extended pause.  
  
Grissom stare, bleary eyed, at the woman on his door step; naked from waist up and his hair still ruffled from sleep.  
  
He smelled the alcohol first, then his eyes widened when he registered who it was. "Catherine?"  
  
"The one and only," She replied, her voice slurred. "Are you gonna lemme in or wha?"  
  
Grissom stepped aside to let her enter, then caught her by the arms as she tripped over the step. She giggled drunkenly and he helped her stagger to the couch. Without any resistance, she flopped down and he sank down next to her. "Catherine?" He asked again, his voice both sympathetic yet demanding an explanation.  
  
Her eyes misted over and she began to cry uncontrollably. The strength he admired had vanished along with the woman he knew. All that was left was this tiny creature; so frail, so vulnerable, and so lost. He held her gently in his arms as if she was as fragile as delicate porcelain - right then she was - rocking her back and forth as he whispered soothing works in her ear. "It's OK Cath. He can't hurt you now. I won't let that happen."  
  
"He killed them Gris," She gasped between sobs. "His wife and child and he fucking murdered them."  
  
"I know."  
  
"He was gonna kill me too."  
  
"But he didn't. I won't let him. I would never let anyone harm you."  
  
"I promised myself that I would never let anyone hurt me like that again," She cried, her words muddled with tears and drink. "Never let anyone make me feel like Eddie did. So weak and pathetic. Like the woman I am."  
  
"You're not weak or pathetic. You're one of the strongest people I ever met. A fighter," He stated firmly.  
  
"But I'm not, Grissom. I'm so tired. So tired of trying to deal. Trying to cope. And it won't end. It never ends."  
  
She continued to weep until there wasn't a single tear left in her to shed. Grissom couldn't stand seeing her like this. He couldn't stand the defeat in her voice. "You can get through this. I know you can. And I'll be here to help you. Like I always have been and will be."  
  
She stared pleadingly up at him. "You swear?"  
  
"I swear," He promised. "Where's Lindsey?"  
  
"At a friend's."  
  
"You want to stay here?"  
  
She nodded weakly. He stroked her cheek as he held her gaze. "I'll be back soon. I'm just going to get you a pillow and blanket."  
  
He left her, and returned to find her sound asleep on the couch. Her face had drained of all the troubles that plagued her waking form. Troubles that she shouldn't have to bare. Gently, he slid the pillow under head and wrapped the blanket around her. He lightly kissed her forehead and stood, watching protectively over her. Then he wandered back to his own bed, where he lay praying. Praying that the new dawn could piece back together the fragments her life lay in.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
You watch him shift in his sleep and stiffen in worry that he'll catch you watching him. But he doesn't wake. You run a weary hand over your face to find two silent tears have tainted your cheeks. You wipe them away.  
  
Still, nothing makes sense. Still, nothing is clear. Your life still lies fragmented in a thousand different pieces, and now he's one of them. Maybe he was already one of them. All you know is that he's the cause of your loneliness and the cure. The cure which remains out of reach. Why? Because the coward you truly are is scared. Scared of losing the last solid thing in your life you have to hold on to.  
  
You walk up beside him, smiling bitter-sweetly at how blissfully unaware he is right now. You lean down and kiss his head.  
  
"I love you Gil."  
  
You've finally said it to ears that never heard the words.  
  
The pain cuts deep into your heart as you turn and leave. Turn and flee. And you're just out of earshot when he turns in his sleep and whispers his reply subconsciously.  
  
"I love you too, Catherine."  
  
A/N: So what do you think? Go on; hit that button! You have an opinion I want to know and reviews will make me happier then I already am. So what are you waiting for? :o) 


	2. A Different Perspective

Disclaimer: Don't own this (really as simple as that!)  
  
Archive: Here, and Graveyard Shift.  
  
A/N: Hello all. Well you guys win, there's a second chapter and even * shock horror! * a third!!!! Talk about crazy lol! Special thanks to Emily who beta-ed this for me and Charming-Storm for the push. Also everyone reviewed the last chapter: Annie Lune, EosAphrodite, NLD-diva, jess, Charming-Storm, gilcathlover, cRaZyPiXiE, krisnina77 and The Madhatter. Thank you!!! Also a special 'Hi' to everyone at the Graveyard Shift. Also I've made a few minor changes to the first chapter. You may have to wait a bit for the next chapter, 'cause I'm disappearing to Austria for a few weeks. Anyway R&R and ENJOY!!! - Bex  
  
Your eyes flutter open and you rapidly blink in an attempt to rid your mind of the last clouds of dreams that drift past like a mist. You lie there contemplating the last words you heard in your sleep. Words that flowed from her flawless lips. Words that perfectly mirrored your deepest feelings. Words that would never leave her mouth in reality. Yet they sounded so real that you could have sworn that she had actuality spoken them. But you know your heart will still have to cling to that precious illusion dreaming creates. Illusions that are shattered by the new dawn.  
  
Then you remember who lays sleeping in the living room. You hurriedly push yourself out of bed, wrap a dressing gown around yourself, and walk out your room in the hope to be granted the guilty luxury of secretly watching her rest. But she is no longer there. All that lies on the couch is the ruffled sheet and pillow from where her phantom once slept.  
  
"Catherine?" You call, confused, into the forlorn townhouse.  
  
You're answered by the familiar silence. You try again as you search the house momentarily. She's gone. Sighing, you flick on the kettle out of habit. You sit alone with your heavy heart for company, thinking about her, about the night before. Why did you let her leave after the attack when you knew she wasn't ok?  
  
You cringe at your stupid mistake and allow your self-torment to take a stab at you. The thoughts are dispersed by the kettle's high pitch whistle. Pouring yourself a cup, you allow a fond smile to play on your lips as you remember how you can never get her coffee quite right, and yet somehow she gets yours spot on without trying.  
  
You breathe in the rich aroma and let it stir memories of nights long ago.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
The dim lights blurred out the faces of the customers, whilst the ones on stage clearly illuminate the merchandise. Catherine's clammy palms caressed the cool pole as she slid down it. Greedy eyes hungrily fed off the sight of her teasing them with her grace and presence. But she never noticed them anymore; her thoughts were swept hopelessly along with the music as she allowed the rhythm to control the fluid movement of her body.  
  
The song ended and she marched confidently off the stage. She ran a hand through her sweaty hair and wrapped a gown around her half-naked form. Catherine didn't care what these people thought of her - what anyone thought of her - she knew who she was and that was good enough for her. Even though she made a living prostituting the image of her body, she had never felt that there was a thing she needed to feel ashamed of. 'As long as they remember to look and not touch,' She thought to herself.  
  
She ordered water from the barman, her system demanding to replenish the fluids lost in dancing. That was the first time she noticed him. What made him stand out was the way he blended into the background. Brown hair was even then beginning to speckle with grey and he was dressed smartly in a blue shirt and black slacks. He was the complete opposite of her.  
  
But, unlike every other male that surrounded him, he sat at the bar with his back to the stage, nursing a half empty drink in his hands, eyes remaining glued to the glass.  
  
Ever so often he would look up and steal glances at her in the mirror on the wall behind the bar, his gaze leaving the glass to meet hers before he turned away. She knew that he assumed his actions were going unnoticed, but she had seen him.  
  
"You know, I'm used to men paying to watch me," She informed him, catching him completely off guard.  
  
His startled eyes flickered quickly at her, then resigned to staring embarrassedly down at the bar again. She couldn't help but let her lips spread into a wide, victorious smirk. Cath sipped the ice-cold water and looked up just in time to spy him shyly glancing at her in the mirror again.  
  
"Do you want a private show or something?" She asked demandingly, frustrated that she couldn't figure out what his game was. He feebly shook his head, completely avoiding eye contact. "Can you speak?"  
  
The question caused him to look straight at her. Unlike every man she'd met in here, his gaze stayed fixed on her neck upwards, never once roaming the rest of her figure. It took her by surprise, though not as much as the eyes themselves. They were such a shade of deep blue that Catherine could swear that she began to drown in them as they locked intensely with hers.  
  
"I only came here for a drink," he spoke finally.  
  
"Really?" She scoffed at the answer and rolled her eyes.  
  
"Really," he repeated firmly. "I had a bad day."  
  
"Oh, and what would be the cause of that?" She inquired, leaning on the bar next to him. Something about him completely fascinated her. After the usual scan of the hands for a wedding ring, she concluded there wasn't a wife to be the source of the problem. "Work?"  
  
He shook his head slightly. "I'm still in training."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"To be a Crime Scene Investigator."  
  
She couldn't suppress the light chuckle that fled her lip nor the amused smile. "Well, Mr CSI-Wannabe, you have a name?"  
  
"Gil Grissom," he replied after a hesitant pause. "You have a name yourself?"  
  
"Nope. Been meaning to get me one of those," She laughed, giving him a dazzling smile. "It's Catherine."  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Your smile grows when you remember how, even back then, she adored teasing you. And how you love to be teased. You recall how enthralled with her you were, even at first sight; how she bewitched and challenged you, how you were determined to challenge her back and support her when she chose to become a CSI as well.  
  
How magnetic she was. Her personality as deadly as quicksand; you never had a chance to escape it when it drew you in. Who could help but fall for her?  
  
The smile vanishes when you recollect how you left her for San Francisco. Left because you were scared about your growing feelings for her - the ones that surpassed friendship - and the fear she'd just reject you. Your heart ached from being parted from her, but it was the return that delivered the final blow to split it in two.  
  
She was married.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Catherine carefully rummaged through the large box marked 'Kitchen' for a pair of mugs, laughing triumphantly when she finally found them and, with a wide smile, passed them to Grissom. He gratefully took them, poured the coffee and slid it back over the surface to her. She took a sip and tried desperately to hide a grimace.  
  
"I got it wrong again, didn't I?" he stated sheepishly, not really a question.  
  
"No. No! It's...great...wonderful...fine," she lied, then, off his unbelieving look, admitted, "Tastes like crap." She laughed and it quickly infected him as well.  
  
"I can never get it right can I?" He chuckled and she just shook her head.  
  
Grissom's eyes then landed on her new wedding ring. It clung to her slim finger, gloatingly shining as it caught the light. He began to feel sick from looking at it, yet he couldn't avert his gaze from the infliction. She followed his gaze and nervously twiddled the gold band. He looked away, allowing awkwardness to settle between the two friends.  
  
"So..." she began, attempting to break the silence, "Why did you leave San Francisco?"  
  
"So many reasons." he replied vaguely.  
  
"Such as?" Cath pressed.  
  
"I didn't like it."  
  
"That's only one answer, Gris," She teased, but it fell flat. She caught him darkly eyeing her ring again. "Why didn't you come to my wedding?"  
  
He gave her a curt shrug. "Weddings have never been my thing."  
  
"Of course not," She murmured disappointedly into her mug as she absentmindedly sipped the coffee. Her face screwed up again. After a pause she placed it down, and to his surprise, she stood up and grabbed her coat. "I should go. Eddie is expecting me."  
  
Grissom merely nodded. She gave him an irritated glare and turned to leave. She was half way to the door when she turned back.  
  
"Grissom?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
She smiled faintly. "I'm glad you're back."  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
It was 2 months before you noticed the bruises. 4 months before you confronted her about it and her night time arrivals on your doorstep started. The birth of Lindsey Willows managed to keep the peace for a while, but it wasn't long before the lull ceased and Eddie Willows was back to his old self.  
  
Then the blows became more and more violent, and she was fleeing more regularly with Lindsey from her house to seek refuge here. The young child would play, unaware of the argument being constantly exchanged by the adults in the next room. You always argued, even after you'd finished tending angry swelling or holding her whilst she cried.  
  
But your shouts and pleas did no good: she always went back to him. You cursed that man a thousand times; the man who possessed everything you yearned for yet never realised how blessed he was. The one who had her love, yet broke her heart.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
"I had to catch my husband fucking another woman in my bed before you admitted you knew Eddie was having an affair?" Catherine shrieked through the sobs. "Why didn't you tell me? Why Grissom?"  
  
Grissom opened his mouth to answer, but all good reasons left him. Instead, he just shut his lips tightly and looked away, ashamed. He could still feel the anger behind her teary eyes, burning into him. He could still hear the incoherent muttering as she cursed him, her husband and the slut he was sleeping with.  
  
All he wanted to do was protect her from this; to stop her from feeling this anguish, to stop her from adverting her anger from being solely placed on Eddie and making him share the wrath.  
  
"Why?" She demanded again at the top of her voice. When she received no response she began to swear. "Fuck you. Fuck you."  
  
He turned back and grabbed her before she could leave.  
  
"Cath..." he tried earnestly to begin but her screams cut him short.  
  
"You asshole! Out of all the people in the world...How could you do this to me? I trusted you." Without any warning, she began to pound her fist against his chest hysterically. Grissom allowed her to exhaust her fury, he closing his arms around her in a secure embrace, letting her weep there until she physically couldn't anymore.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
It took you ages to repair the thin threads your friendship was left in. Ages for her to forgive you. After that you promised yourself that you would never let anyone treat her like Eddie did - hurt her like Eddie did - but yesterday you failed.  
  
You feel infuriated at yourself for failing her. For failing even now to look after her and treat her right. You slam you mug down, causing the black liquid to slosh over the sides. You begin to pace back and forth. Every since she walked into you life, it's become all about her. You came back to Las Vegas because of her. You didn't attend her wedding because of her. You fought about Eddie, even though it pained you, all because of her. And you wouldn't want it any other way. She stole you heart and you don't want it back.  
  
These thoughts are shattered by the phone's loud ringing. You quickly cross the room and pick it up, hoping it's her.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Is this Mr Grissom?" a voice on the other end asks.  
  
"Yes. Who is this?"  
  
"Mr Grissom, I'm calling from the Las Vegas hospital because you are Miss Willows emergency contact number-"  
  
Your heart jerks sharply in your chest and in your desperation you butt in. "What's happened? Is she alright?"  
  
"I'm afraid to tell you...there has been a car accident..."  
  
A/N: DUN, DUN, DA!!! I decided as revenge for extended this I'd leave a cliff-hanger! Lol, not really, this idea just came to me (amazing how the do). Anywho, I really want to know what you think and I know that you really want to tell me. So why are you just sitting around? GO HIT THAT BUTTON NOW!!! Lol :o) 


	3. Picking Up The Pieces

Disclaimer: Still don't own!  
  
Archive: Here and the Graveyard.  
  
A/N: Hello all. Yes this story does exist! I'm sorry it took me so long for the final chapter, but I've had a few (major) set backs on the way. But thanks to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter: cRaZyPiXiE, Lovely, Caspian raider, jd burns, Jaecen, Annie Lune, The Madhatter2, krisnina77, Charming-Storm, pinkyfish and pfk killer. And special thanks to Nicole who beta-ed this for me and Emily who proofed the previous chapters. I'm trying my best to update other fics, but I've been doing a lot of course work as well as revising for some important test. Any who, enough of this waffle. R&R and ENJOY!! - Bex  
  
'Is she breathing?'  
  
'I have no idea'  
  
'Miss can you hear me?'  
  
'Everything's going to be alright'  
  
'Hold on, helps coming. Just please hold on'.  
  
Flashing lights. Blue. Red. White. Everything's hazy and blurred. Why doesn't anything make sense? Why can't you see?  
  
Beep. Beep. Beep.  
  
The blinding white light that dazed Catherine's eyes faded and she blinked at her surroundings. It took her head a few minutes to process where she was. Even though the room was surreally whiter, Cath recognised it as the young victim's bedroom where she'd been the day before. Where she'd been attacked. 'So what am I doing here now?' She asked herself, confused.  
  
Beep. Beep. Beep.  
  
All the memories of the previous events swam into the next, colliding and merging into a spinning mess. Her head throbbed intensely and her body ached with pain.  
  
Catherine became aware of another person in the room. Sitting on the bed - engrossed with writing in her diary - sat a young girl. For an instant, Cath could have sworn it was Lindsey, but then she realised that the child was older.  
  
"Hey!" She called out to her. The girl looked up and Catherine recognised immediately. "Alice Beckett?"  
  
The girl nodded and regarded Cath with sadden eyes. "I didn't expect to see you here," She spoke softly after a pause.  
  
Cath's eyes skittered around the room as she walked closer, then finally they locked again with the girl's. "Where is here?"  
  
The girl merely shrugged.  
  
"Am I dreaming?" Catherine asked unsurely.  
  
Alice gave her a tiny half-smile. "I don't really think I'm the right person to answer that, do you?"  
  
Beep. Beep. Beep.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
You can't feel a thing. The bleach and antiseptic that clings to the hospital air stings your nose. You are sure that there is noise around you, but it sounds so far away. All you can do is hopelessly follow the nurse, catching snippets of her words. Something about a car jumping a red light and that they're doing everything they can. You try to prepare yourself for the sight waiting for you through that door. But nothing could prepare you for what you see.  
  
She lies before you; stiff green sheets are wrapped tightly around the immobile body. Not once does she shift. She just lies there perfectly still, whilst wires and tubes stick into her, trapped in suspended animation. Right now she's neither dead nor alive: merely existing.  
  
The sound of the life-support machine echoes deafeningly around the room. You walk torpidly beside her. You run a hand gently down her cheek, feeling all the cuts underneath your touch. Her eyes are closed and sunken as if in some sort of eternal slumber. When you take her hand in yours, you gain no response from her limp fingers. You sink down in the chair next to her and silently beg her to come back to you. You need her to come back.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Beep. Beep. Beep.  
  
"I guess you're feeling a bit like Alice down the rabbit hole."  
  
Catherine stared at the girl, puzzled by her statement. Alice just laughed. " 'Alice In Wonderland'. Didn't you ever read the book?"  
  
Cath shook her head as she recalled her dislike for reading as a child and now she never had the time. "It was my mother's favourite," the child continued. "That's why she called me Alice."  
  
Alice shifted over, allowing Catherine some space to sit down on the bed. She did so and took the opportunity to inspect the girl. Other then the ghostly pale skin, she looked exactly the same as when Catherine first saw her at the bottom of the stair; except the fear and pain had left her eyes.  
  
"Do you know why we're here?" She asked.  
  
"I think it's because we're not ready to move on yet," Alice guessed. "That people haven't let go of us."  
  
She considered this idea before a serge of agony shot through her systems. Desperately, she clutched her head, wishing the pain to pass.  
  
Beep. Beep. Beep.  
  
"Are you OK?" The girl asked, obviously panic filled her voice.  
  
"I'm just got a headache," Cath reassured her, then she glared irritably, "I wish that goddamn beeping would stop!"  
  
Alice express turned very sombre very quickly at these words. "Trust me, you don't want that."  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
The steady rhythm of the life-support machine becomes irregular and erratic. Alarms blare as nurses and doctors swarm into the room. You frantically try to ask the nurse ushering you out of the room what's happening. "We're not sure," She tells you, "But if you want to help her, Mr Grissom, then let us do our job."  
  
She leaves you outside and rushes back in, shutting the door behind her. You thump the wall in frustration; any pain is cancelled out by the worry gripping you.  
  
"Uncle Grissom?" You turn to see other people sitting behind you. Your other CSIs regard you with concerned eyes. Lindsey sits on Warrick's lap, being hugged as tears streak her face. She wriggles from his embrace and runs over to you. Her arms fling tightly around you. Numbly, you return the hug, unconsciously stroking her hair. What are you going to do?  
  
The nurse appears and you free yourself from the girl's hold. She wants to come with you, but you're not sure if it news she should hear. You're grateful when Warrick takes her to sit down again.  
  
"What's going on?" You demand from the nurse when you're out of earshot.  
  
"There have been a few complications. It appears that Miss Willows has some internal bleeding we didn't detect before. She's on her way up to surgery now," She informs you, using the same emotionless tone you've used yourself. How you hate that tone.  
  
You swallow hard. "Is she. Is she going to be OK?" The nurse hesitates but you pursue an answer: "Please, just tell me."  
  
"We're not sure. She's a fighter and has done amazingly to hang on so this well this far. She has a chance, but it might be best to prepare yourself for the worse," She answers honestly. "I'm sorry."  
  
And with that, she's gone again. You feel like you're sinking. Prepare yourself for the worse? Does that mean you're about to lose her? Lose her when so much remains unsaid? You can't imagine a life without her in it.  
  
Somehow you reach the chairs outside that dreaded room again. The last ounce of strength left in you flees and you collapse into a chair. Lindsey hurries over and curls up on your lap. "Mom's going to be OK isn't she?" She pleas more then asks you.  
  
"Yeah she is," You reply, trying to reassure yourself as much as her. "Everything's going to be okay."  
  
She buries her head into your chest, clinging firmly to your shirt for comfort. You hold her securely, as if afraid that she might be taken from you if you let go. Just like her mother.  
  
All that there is left to do now is wait. Wait whilst the seconds kill you inside. Wait for the unseen future to catch up. Wait for time to decided Catherine's fate. Just wait and see.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Beep. Beep. Beep.  
  
"Are you alright?" The child asked, her voice wavering with worry.  
  
Catherine managed to straighten up. She'd just blacked out completely, leaving her with out a clue to what just happened. Feebly at first, she picked herself off the floor, and then strength seeped back into her muscles.  
  
"Yeah," She responded finally as she pulled herself back onto the bed. "The pain's gone now." Her strong smile seemed to reassure the girl.  
  
"I thought I'd lost you," She admitted timidly.  
  
"Lost me?"  
  
"That you had died and moved on."  
  
"I'm not already dead?" The girl shook her head. "But you are?" The girl nodded. "Then why are you here?"  
  
"I told you, I'm not ready to move on yet. Not everyone has let go of me," Alice repeated.  
  
"Who's still holding on to you?"  
  
"You," She replied simply to Cath astonishment. "I know you feel bad about what happen to me and mum. And I know that you imagine that the same thing might have happened if you'd stayed with Eddie, but it didn't. You moved on, so please let me."  
  
Catherine took this in and nodded, causing the girl to smile. "I think you need to go back. They need you," Alice stated.  
  
"Who need me?"  
  
Alice laughed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Lindsey and Gil silly."  
  
"Gil needs me?" Cath repeated in disbelief.  
  
"More then you know. You need them as much as they need you. So what are you waiting for?"  
  
Beep. Beep. Beep.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
The life-support machine's steady rhythm has return. She made it through the surgery, but they still can't tell you if she's ever going to wake up. 'It's all a matter of time Mr Grissom. We just have to wait and see.'  
  
You take her hand in yours and gently squeeze it. And to your shock, she squeezes faintly back. Her eyelids gradually flicker open and a groan erupts from her throat. "My head."  
  
Without a second thought, you hug her. It takes her by surprise, but she soon hugs you back. You can't begin to express your relief. So many emotions flood you head right now sending you into a giddy daze. You can't believe how close you came to losing her. You hear her moan again in pain and you reluctantly let her go.  
  
She weakly smiles at you as you beam back. "Hi there," You greet her feebly, all other words failing you.  
  
"Hi yourself. Why are you crying Grissom?"  
  
You didn't realise that you had been and hurriedly wipe those tears away. "No reason," You lie sheepishly.  
  
She begins to roll her eyes until she realise how much it hurts. She raises a hand groggily to her head. "Are the others here?" She asks, her voice still croaky.  
  
"Yes they'll all here. Well except Jim. He's busy hunting down the guy who did this." Your smile widens when a light chuckle escapes her lips. "Lindsey is going to be so happy to see you. I'll go and get them."  
  
You turn to leave but she grabs your arm. "Grissom," She starts softly, "There's something I need to tell you."  
  
You look straight at her and nod for her to continue. She pauses as if in thought, looking uncomfortable for the first time since you met her. The suddenly, out of the blue, she blurts out: "I love you."  
  
The words take you by surprise and you blink a couple times in bafflement. Did she just say what you think she said?  
  
Her cheeks begin to turn more scarlet than the open wounds and she avoids your intense gaze. "I guess after today, I mean, what happened.. I figured you should know, in case I didn't get a chance to tell you before something happens." She rambles embarrassedly.  
  
"Cath," You cut her off and she makes eye contact again, "I love you too."  
  
She looks stunned for a second, then a smile lights up her face. She shuffles over so you can sit down next to her on the bed. You oblige and wrap your arms protectively around her as she leans on you chest. You're never going to let her go again.  
  
You both stay in comfortable silence for several moments, listening to the hypnotic beeping of the machine and your hearts beating in time.  
  
"Gil," She murmurs breaking the stillness.  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"I can't believe my life had to get so messed up before it could start to become so good."  
  
A small smile touches your lips and you tenderly kiss her head.  
  
"Maybe it's about time we picked up those pieces," You suggest, entwining you fingers with hers. When you look down, for a perfect moment you forget whose hand is whose. And there's not a doubt in your mind - this is the way it was always meant to be.  
  
You squeeze her hand gently. "Together."  
  
~The End~  
  
A/N: But I still want to know what you think. Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed so far, you guys are amazing! * round of applause * Well, I've finally deliver the last part, so I only think it's fair that you hit the button and leave some opinions in exchange! Go on. What are you waiting for? 


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